I’ve been blogging a long time…and since I can’t expect you all to start at the beginning and catch up, I’ll be a real gem and post some oldies and goodies from time to time.
No need to send gifts to thank me, your reading it is enough.
{although, you know, I won’t stop you from sending money…} =)
Today’s blast from the past is all about my boo:
My friends were right. I couldn’t pass up a chance to write about the following experience. It’s real life yo. It’s relatable. So listen up.
I had quite the traumatic day yesterday. It was heartbreaking, tormenting, and downright brutal.
I had to say goodbye to my boo.
See that band-aid I’m sporting on my neck?
That’s my boo boo.
Because I lost my boo.
My beauty mark that has always been there.
I often likened it to Cindy Crawfords mole. You know, I felt a kinship with her because of it.
That’s my boo boo.
Because I lost my boo.
My beauty mark that has always been there.
I often likened it to Cindy Crawfords mole. You know, I felt a kinship with her because of it.
But now I am more in the camp of Sarah Jessica Parker.
Because it’s gone. Gone, gone, gone.
And I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.
Because it’s gone. Gone, gone, gone.
And I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.
So, I went into the Derm’s office with Chloe so that they could check out some freckles on the two of us. I should have known by the cotton mouth and shakes I got in the waiting room that nothing good was to come of this visit.
While I was sitting on the exam table, I mentioned that oh maybe one day in the far far future we could possibly maybe talk about having my boo removed.
You know, since Chloe seems to think it’s her own personal play toy these days.
You know, since Chloe seems to think it’s her own personal play toy these days.
And then before I could say ‘I hate needles,” she whips one out and gives me a shot and suddenly the blood that belonged in my brain went to my toes, and I saw my life flash in front of my eyes.
The life I had with my mole. My sweet sweet trademark mole.
And while it didn’t hurt, and I didn’t see the needle, what happened next may have you to believe otherwise.
The life I had with my mole. My sweet sweet trademark mole.
And while it didn’t hurt, and I didn’t see the needle, what happened next may have you to believe otherwise.
I almost passed out.
And they had to take my crying baby (who by the way, was crying because we are one like that. She was in tune with my loss you see.) away from me and then instantly put back my head and raised up my legs.
There I was with my paper shirt (opened in the back) and my paper skirt tucked into my grannies, lying back trying to magically change my skin coloring back from green to California tan.
It was all such a blur. And honestly, I had no time to think. No time to ponder the loss I was about to experience.
But, my body knew. Oh yes, my body knew.
It knew it was about to lose a valuable member and it was not letting go without a fight.
As I laid there, I realized that this was symbolic.
I had this epiphany on my weekend getaway.
I am making some changes in my life.
And a moleless neck was a symbol of starting over.
I was a new woman.
But, my body knew. Oh yes, my body knew.
It knew it was about to lose a valuable member and it was not letting go without a fight.
As I laid there, I realized that this was symbolic.
I had this epiphany on my weekend getaway.
I am making some changes in my life.
And a moleless neck was a symbol of starting over.
I was a new woman.
A new woman who still felt like she was going to pass out.
But, being the amazing actress that I am, I decided to (wo)man up.
So I got myself together, took my baby back in my arms and asked what was next.
Momma all better.
So I got myself together, took my baby back in my arms and asked what was next.
Momma all better.
Only next it was Chloe’s turn. It was time to lay her naked baby body on the table and hold her arms while these beasts dug into her stomach to biopsy a freckle and then of all the nerve, STITCH IT BACK UP!
For the love of God.
My poor sweet innocent baby.
For the love of God.
My poor sweet innocent baby.
And while I stood for a minute, I remembered that the two of us were one and that as she had cried for me, this time I also was feeling her pain.
I quickly realized that my acting abilities couldn’t compete with the lack of blood in my brain, and I noticed my toes were feeling unusually warm again.
So, slyly I rolled over the doctors stool and sat my paper covered bootie down and laid my bloodless head next to Chloe’s screaming red head.
I quickly realized that my acting abilities couldn’t compete with the lack of blood in my brain, and I noticed my toes were feeling unusually warm again.
So, slyly I rolled over the doctors stool and sat my paper covered bootie down and laid my bloodless head next to Chloe’s screaming red head.
Oh the SCREAMING!
Not the “I’m in pain” screaming, but the “I’M SO SCARED AND I’M AFRAID FOR MY LIFE, MY GOD MOM, WHY ARE YOU ALLOWING THEM TO DO THIS TO ME” kind of screaming.
And then I got hot all over, and I couldn’t shed the paper shirt fast enough, and the green once again replaced my tan, and I began to slump.
Not the “I’m in pain” screaming, but the “I’M SO SCARED AND I’M AFRAID FOR MY LIFE, MY GOD MOM, WHY ARE YOU ALLOWING THEM TO DO THIS TO ME” kind of screaming.
And then I got hot all over, and I couldn’t shed the paper shirt fast enough, and the green once again replaced my tan, and I began to slump.
Once again, they took my baby and I was once again placed on the table with my feet in the air and my head tilted back and this time, I even got a Capri Sun fed to me by straw.
I’m telling you. Two moles removed was complete drama.
DRAMA.
DRAMA.
So, as you can see I lived to tell. But, barely.
Just. Barely.
Just. Barely.
And now I’m boo-less.
In it’s place is a boo boo.
And Chloe has one too.
But we’re strong.
We’ll pull through.
In it’s place is a boo boo.
And Chloe has one too.
But we’re strong.
We’ll pull through.
Until two weeks from now when we have to go back and have her stitches removed.
I think I’ll prep my xanax for that one.
I think I’ll prep my xanax for that one.
Oh my word, can you say scaredy cat?
© 2010 “Le Musings of Moi”
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Oh how I love your writing. You are SO funny! I remember this post- it was great to read it again! xoxo
girl you crack me up! with or without your boo